


Playing The Percentages

by WetSammyWinchester



Series: Wincestmas 2016 [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Con Artists, M/M, Pool & Billiards, Possessive Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-14 06:40:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9166579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WetSammyWinchester/pseuds/WetSammyWinchester
Summary: Sam likes to take a back seat when they hustle pool. But tonight is different. Tonight, Sam insisted on doing the hustling.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [soy_em](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soy_em/gifts).



Sam likes to take a back seat when they hustle pool. He will sit at a high top, leafing through Dad’s journal or reading the newspaper for cases, while Dean puts on the act of slurring his words and missing his shots. Dean relishes the chance to blow off a little steam, show off his skills for the locals while waitresses bring him drinks and drape themselves over his shoulder. All of it under Sam’s watchful eye.

But tonight is different. Tonight, Sam insisted on doing the hustling.

He may not have as much practice as Dean but he’s a good shot and most people buy into Sam’s sweet frat boy persona. Hell, some of them seem to feel bad for the dimpled young kid throwing his money away carelessly - right up to the point that Sam takes their week’s wages.

Dean stands to the side of the table and watches the game as he sips his whiskey. Unlike his brother, he can’t wait patiently at a table nearby because what if something happens, what if one of these rednecks catches onto the con and tries to hurt Sam, what if Sam drinks too much (because the kid cannot hold his liquor, that’s for sure). So, Dean keeps an eye out for any trouble and then he enjoys the view for another reason altogether.

Because Sam playing pool is like the best kind of porn for Dean. His lean muscular body stretched across the table while reaching for a shot. His big hands wrapped around the cue while the pale stick delicately moves between his fingers. How he lifts up on his toes to use the bridge for a long shot while his shirt rides up in the back in an unintentional show of skin.

Dean’s not the only one to notice tonight. The guy playing Sam may look like a good ole boy but his eyes never leave Sam’s ass as he moves around the table. When his brother makes a good shot, the guy reaches out to pat his shoulder, letting his hand linger there. Sam throws the first game by missing the eight-ball shot and this redneck leans in, whispering something in Sam’s ear to make him laugh.

“Okay, that’s enough. Can’t have you wasting all of our money tonight.” Dean walks over and grabs Sam’s elbow.

His brother looks surprised for a second, but then his face fixes in a fake smile, like Sam knows what’s going on and Dean is feeding him the next lines in this play.

Good ole boy takes an interest. He stands up and adjust his belt buckle. “Your boyfriend got a problem?”

Sam shakes off Dean’s hold, and smiles at the guy. “Not my boyfriend and I’m fine. Rack ‘em up.”

Dean digs his fingers into the meat of Sam’s arm and yanks him away. “You’re done, here.”

Thirty second later and they are out the back door; the cool air of the alley fresh compared to the stink of the bar. Sam only has time to take one gulp of it before he’s thrown against the brick wall.

“What the fuck are you doing, Dean? I had that guy.” He rolls his eyes.

“You do that on purpose?”

“What?” Sam starts to push off the wall, but Dean pushes him back against the rough brick. In the dark of the alley, Sam looks uncertain for the first time that night and Dean likes it.

He moves in and whispers in Sam’s ear. “You knew exactly what you were doing. Didn’t ya, Sam?”

Sam doesn’t respond except to roll his head to the side and bare his neck. It’s just what Dean wants but it isn’t enough. It’s too easy after the show he just watched. He grabs the long hair at the back of Sam’s neck, gives it a painful yank, bending that long pale neck even further.

They’ve been here before, but usually it’s Dean pushing things too far to get a reaction - too much of a smile, eyelashes fluttering, his hand scratching under his t-shirt to show a bit of his stomach, his fingers grazing the mark’s as they reach for the same drink.  
Sam is different. He draws them in with shy smiles and blushes, stretching to show off his body, but never touching them first. He leaves them wanting more, but the only one he goes home with is Dean.

He places a kiss under Sam’s jaw line and moves his way back to the soft spot behind Sam’s ear. His brother lets out a hiss and tries to move his hips closer, to get more contact, but Dean holds him immobile against the wall.

“Like I said, you’re done for tonight. We’re going home to a clean room and a long night.”


End file.
